Toilet Rocker
Well-Known Member
I've been wailing out on the P90 exercise program and workout to Youth of Today.
Punk Rock and Hardcore
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positive outlook...a classic!
Germ's Garage: when Muskrat was living with me & Preston (flocced up home situation), we hung out in Germ's garage. Germ, Preston and I cleaned out the garage and Germ started living in it. Germ's place was right inside the Las Vegas/Henderson border, Vegas side. we used to get all sorts of flocced up and watch cheesy horror movies way too loud, listen to street punk way too loud, and have redonkulous contests way too loud. one of the competitions was Punk Rock Jousting. we found a pair of roller blades (or "fruit boots" if you will) and a bunch of PVC pipe. each person jousting got 1 fruit boot and a jousting stick. it really helped if you were drunk. and damn my fancy tastes, I was drinking some kinda fancy beer I made or La Fin du Monde/Maudite when I could buy it. Muskrat and some flocctard got all hammered up and dipped their berries in white house paint and slapped them against a brick wall to see who could make the biggest splatter mark. me, Preston, Muskrat, Germ, Emo Joe, Trent, and ol' floccface bizznitchweasel (not his nickname) had a band. all our shows were in Germ's garage. me, Preston, Muskrat, and Germ were vocals. we all had our own style, except Preston and I. I wasn't even supposed to be in the band, but I think I told that story before. Grem's dad raised dessert sheep (he's Arabic and said it was the only meat that he eats). he was the kind of fella that used every last bit he could. sheeps head stew was a real thing. I was the only one brave enough (besides Germ) to eat any/all the odd bits. I've had pancreas, liver, kidney, brains, and butterflied grilled testicle. Germ's dad encouraged me to bring home brews after he butchered. I did not want to be thewre for that after helping my grandpa butcher a hog once. Germs dad said home brew "is good with the meat". these are the only pictures I have from any showsn in Germ's garage. Preston is the big guy.
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
Sitting out the Bad Religion show tonight. Too broke for punk rock. There's a pound of hops and 15 lbs. of malt to blame. Oh well, Gradfin showed up last night dressed as my Lord and Saviour. Might have been a tough one for me.
Pig Pen: I met this guy in a bar in Rapid City, SD. he come walking into our bar looking like 10 shades of a bone head (in my mind at the time). Willis talked him up and introduced us. we spent all night slamming pitchers of PBR and Dead Nazi Shots. my stomach turns right now just thinking about that. good floccin lord! he was not a bone head, nor a SHARP. we got along great, but I was still very cautious of new people at this point. Preston invited him to a BBQ at his place. I brought some home brews. I'm pretty sure I was trying to clone McEwen's Export at the time. I never did get it nailed down. Preston and I were brothers in Vegas. I took him in and stood up for him when his best friend let him down. he was unnecessarily jealous how well Pig Pen and I got along. never should have been. a brother is a brother and should be to all the rest of my brothewrs. OFD Al is a great example. Pig Pen wasn't sure if he was punk, skinhead, or rock-a-billy. one thing he was was violent, opinionated, and always looking for a good time. over the years we raided frat houses, started fights in all the wrong places, fist fought each other over redonkulous arguments, got kicked out of almost every bar in Rapid City, and bonded better than family (just like Preston and OFD Al). I even named my first born after him. he once showed a lesbian his butt hole (no joke) and yelled, "Look at it! It's a clean ass!" we even got matching-ish tattoos. this was from my wedding day (I'm wearing bleachers) and some other days.
OFD Al: none go back further than he. I met him in 7th grade. he was just one of those poeple. if you ever met one, you know. we were in reading class together. one day I turned to him (I still don't know why) and said, " Would you care to dine with me?". we bs'ed about all sorts of stuff. at the end of 7th grade, I moved to my dad's in Montana. I moved back before the end of my 8th grade year. we hung out a bit in High School. after I got kicked out of HS, we lost touch. I ended up moving to Vegas and going through hell (the after math of the murder of Dan and Spit). I moved back to Rapid City two years later. I had an aprtment for 6 months. my gf left, my roommate Mike went bak to Vegas, and Preston moved in with some other guys. I found a cheap place that was part of a house for rent. my brutha Bob was helping me move in when I saw Al come out of the house. turned out he lived in the other side of the house. he'd been in the Marines and just moved back. he found skinhead in the Corps. talked a ton about Chapel Hill Skins. and like Pig Pen, we got in too many fights and kicked out of too many places. I was working in the steel yard at the time. my boss and friend Kodi used to talk about these guys in 'Nam called the Old Foul Dudes. the first LRRPs to run sweeps. rugged as hell and twice as mean. me, Al, and Pig Pen thought that was us to the letter. we were the OFD.
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Vegetarisk
Well-Known Member
Seemed like a good idea.
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I love that album. I have it on cassette.
OP
OP
I actually dig it. A Russian ska cover of Gotta Go. Amazing.
So I've been through most of this thread while I was on the bus and haven't seen much posted. Anyone else into the folk punk scene? Johnny Hobo, Mischief Brew, Days n Daze, Andrew Jackson Jihad? That kinda s**t makes me love people
The Blueberry Hill Incident Backlash
I'm sure I talked about the incident where my friend Nutty Brandon slapped and spit on a few WP freshcuts and ended up with us have guns drawn down in the parking lot. if not, I'll tell that one later. this is the aftermath. Iwas sitting with some people I didn't know outside a Jitters on the corner of Warm Springs and Green Valley Dr. in Henderson, NV weeks after the incident. they were employees, it was after hours, and I talked my way into some espresso drink. we were just hanging out outside talking when I see Nazi Nate (from the incident) and some of his friends walk up. I told one of the employees to dial 911 on his cell get get ready to hit send as this guy might want to kill me. Nate skipped the pleasantries and went right into accusations. he said that me and my friends called the cops on him and his friends for pulling guns on us. an off duty cop in Blueberry Hill called, not us. we lived by "Snitches Get Stitches". we always kept the law dogs out of it whenever we possibly could. he didn't care about what I was saying, he wanted to beat me. we argued back and forth for a while. the whole time the Jitters employees were pissing down their legs. the kid holding the cell phone was shaking like a leaf on a tree. I still don't know why Nate never hit me, but he and his friends ended up leaving, warning me that they were out for me & my friends. they made good on that. they followed me to work, chased some of my friends through Vegas (high speed, running traffic lights, guns out the window), fist fights in the streets... Nazi Nate and I never once found ourselves fighting each other personally. I fairly certain one of his minions was the kid that blind sided me with the aluminum bat handle. I can't be 100% on that though. even the WP guys fought among themselves.
I'm sure I talked about the incident where my friend Nutty Brandon slapped and spit on a few WP freshcuts and ended up with us have guns drawn down in the parking lot. if not, I'll tell that one later. this is the aftermath. Iwas sitting with some people I didn't know outside a Jitters on the corner of Warm Springs and Green Valley Dr. in Henderson, NV weeks after the incident. they were employees, it was after hours, and I talked my way into some espresso drink. we were just hanging out outside talking when I see Nazi Nate (from the incident) and some of his friends walk up. I told one of the employees to dial 911 on his cell get get ready to hit send as this guy might want to kill me. Nate skipped the pleasantries and went right into accusations. he said that me and my friends called the cops on him and his friends for pulling guns on us. an off duty cop in Blueberry Hill called, not us. we lived by "Snitches Get Stitches". we always kept the law dogs out of it whenever we possibly could. he didn't care about what I was saying, he wanted to beat me. we argued back and forth for a while. the whole time the Jitters employees were pissing down their legs. the kid holding the cell phone was shaking like a leaf on a tree. I still don't know why Nate never hit me, but he and his friends ended up leaving, warning me that they were out for me & my friends. they made good on that. they followed me to work, chased some of my friends through Vegas (high speed, running traffic lights, guns out the window), fist fights in the streets... Nazi Nate and I never once found ourselves fighting each other personally. I fairly certain one of his minions was the kid that blind sided me with the aluminum bat handle. I can't be 100% on that though. even the WP guys fought among themselves.
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
Mischief Brew and AJJ are amazing.
Botulizard
Member
I saw Descendents on Friday night and it was the wildest show I've ever been to. The band was loud and on their game, the pit was total chaos. It was an unforgettable experience. My ears are still ringing loudly.
On a different note, in response to the above few posts, Andrew Jackson Jihad is probably my favorite band.
On a different note, in response to the above few posts, Andrew Jackson Jihad is probably my favorite band.
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
ONe for the wayback machine, inspired by my own sidetrack in another thread:
1994. The Engine Room, Ft. Worth TX. DFL, Joykiller, Pennywise. Amazing show. DFL ripped the roof off, and grafittid the back of the satge. Hella fun band. Joykiller comes on, and Jack Grisham (legendary frontman for TSOL, Joykiller was his new band, nothing like TSOL, keyboard based weirdo punk) was generally being insane. Inviting anyone and everyone on stage to flash the crowd. Tons of ****s, too many johnsons and hairy punk cracks. Jack always wore a kilt. Always. Bad Religion mentioned it in a song, that's how much that dude wore kilts. Under the kilt...he was full Scot. Anyway, Jack Grisham teabagged my face whilst stage diving. I'm still horrified, 21 years later. That mans junk smelled like old milk, and it was on my face. Later on, during Pennywise's set, I would bear the full weight of one of Ft. Worth's best and largest dudes (RIP Harlan Hill, I'm singing Bro Hym and crying again) directly on top of my head, suffer the only confirmed concussion of my entire life, and end up puking all over DSL's merch table.
1994. The Engine Room, Ft. Worth TX. DFL, Joykiller, Pennywise. Amazing show. DFL ripped the roof off, and grafittid the back of the satge. Hella fun band. Joykiller comes on, and Jack Grisham (legendary frontman for TSOL, Joykiller was his new band, nothing like TSOL, keyboard based weirdo punk) was generally being insane. Inviting anyone and everyone on stage to flash the crowd. Tons of ****s, too many johnsons and hairy punk cracks. Jack always wore a kilt. Always. Bad Religion mentioned it in a song, that's how much that dude wore kilts. Under the kilt...he was full Scot. Anyway, Jack Grisham teabagged my face whilst stage diving. I'm still horrified, 21 years later. That mans junk smelled like old milk, and it was on my face. Later on, during Pennywise's set, I would bear the full weight of one of Ft. Worth's best and largest dudes (RIP Harlan Hill, I'm singing Bro Hym and crying again) directly on top of my head, suffer the only confirmed concussion of my entire life, and end up puking all over DSL's merch table.
that is a great story!:rockin: I love hearing these stories as much as I like telling them. maybe more.
I started a game of making emo kids cry at shows starting at a No Means No show. no time now.
I was at the No Means No show at the 4H building in Rapid City, SD. all the EMO kids loved looking like Buddy Holly and standing lifeless right between the band and the pit. they would whine when anyone from the pit would bump them. I bumped one of those whiny cry baby sissy pants. he turned around and started yelling at me, "I'm just trying to enjoy the show! Why are you trying to ruin the show for me?!?" I thought, "Alright, you floccin' pterodactyl. I'll ruin the show for you." next round (it was a circle pit) I run at him full force and rammed him, knocking him into 3-4 other cry babies. it was like pterodactyl bowling. ol' poopy pants laid there for a moment the turned (not getting up) and screamed, "THANKS FOR RUING THE SHOW FOR ME!!!" then ran to the bathroom in tears with 2-3 of his manginas in tow. ever since then I always tried to find the cry babies and knock them down. we had a point system. knock one down: 1 Punk Rock Point. knock 2 or more down: 2 Points+ how many extra at 1 Point each. make them cry: 2 Points make multiples cry at the same time: 10 Points. winner got bragging rights for the night.
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
I never understood standing next to the pit and not wanting to be in the pit. There's room in the back if you don't wanna dance.
that was exactly my thought. stay the flocc away if you don't want in it. if you get bumped, don't be a cry baby.
Eh. I was either in the pit, or on the side of the pit taking a breather from the pit. I also got pissed when people IN the pit hit folks NOT in the pit, but instead of crying about it, I just got revenge later. One time some f***tart decided to roundhouse the periphery of the pit. I took a boot to the eye socket (and had a shiner for a good week afterwards). Later on in the show I got him with a boot straight to the kneecap, and he went down and pretty much stayed down, had to limp out of the pit with help. Don't know if I broke his knee, but really don't care.
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
Learn to push mosh. Don't cry if you get hit. There's a coffee shop somewhere where you can sit and watch people play music. I came to dance.
Sunday Morning Breakfast
it was a tradition in Rapid City among a large number of punks that I inadvertently started. I was hanging out with my friend Willis (as in Willis D**k Fit In Your Mouth) quite a bit. quite often I would wake up in his house after a big night of binge drinking. we usually made sure we had some cheap beer like Old Schwillwuaki or PBR around for the next day. I woke up about 6-7 in the morning as usual (uncomfortable thing in other peoples houses). I went to the fridge and grabbed the 12 pack of Ol' Schwill out of the fridge and just started drinking out of boredom. Willis woke up about an hour later. he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me sitting in the dim light with 4-5 empties around me. I only said one word to him, "Beer?" he laughed and replied, "Hell yes, I'll have a beer with you!" we had to go for more beer by 9:30 was were completely ripped by 10:30. Sunday Morning Breakfast was born. for years after it was becoming a trend. I would wake up places on Sunday mornings and start drinking with anyone who was awake. others were doing the same under the same name. it only lasted (as a trend among the punks) for 4-5 years. but it was nice while it lasted.
it was a tradition in Rapid City among a large number of punks that I inadvertently started. I was hanging out with my friend Willis (as in Willis D**k Fit In Your Mouth) quite a bit. quite often I would wake up in his house after a big night of binge drinking. we usually made sure we had some cheap beer like Old Schwillwuaki or PBR around for the next day. I woke up about 6-7 in the morning as usual (uncomfortable thing in other peoples houses). I went to the fridge and grabbed the 12 pack of Ol' Schwill out of the fridge and just started drinking out of boredom. Willis woke up about an hour later. he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me sitting in the dim light with 4-5 empties around me. I only said one word to him, "Beer?" he laughed and replied, "Hell yes, I'll have a beer with you!" we had to go for more beer by 9:30 was were completely ripped by 10:30. Sunday Morning Breakfast was born. for years after it was becoming a trend. I would wake up places on Sunday mornings and start drinking with anyone who was awake. others were doing the same under the same name. it only lasted (as a trend among the punks) for 4-5 years. but it was nice while it lasted.
Can anyone explain Turbnegro to me? I was at PRB this weekend and I just don't get it. What's with the sailor hats? At one point the lead singer yelled out 'I see a lot of sailor hats out there!'. Those words should never be uttered by any band at any time. (OK, maybe by The Village People.)
On the flip side, The Business and Agnostic Front kicked ass. Jello was by far the hit of the show - at least for me.
Also, what's with all the hipsters? I saw a guy wearing skinny jeans, a tweed jacket, and a bow tie. I had an overwhelming urge to stomp on him.
On the flip side, The Business and Agnostic Front kicked ass. Jello was by far the hit of the show - at least for me.
Also, what's with all the hipsters? I saw a guy wearing skinny jeans, a tweed jacket, and a bow tie. I had an overwhelming urge to stomp on him.
Four5_Brewery
Member
TSOL (Wash Away and Superficial Love) and Death (Freaking Out and Politicians in my Eyes) 
were enjoyed by all after the Cavs secured the Eastern Conference Championship
were enjoyed by all after the Cavs secured the Eastern Conference Championship
Fedora
Glorified Janitor
Fish
Me and Fish go back to junior high. Well I was in junior high. He was a few years older. Fish was a drummer. A Damn good one. He was probably my biggest first hand musical influence when I first started playing drums. He was so fluid. Excellent musician and only got better as the years past.
Fish was a punk rocker. The first I had ever met, growing up in a small, rural Arkansas town. He took he under his wing for a while. I had always felt different from the kids at school. Not quite sure why but I'm sure you can relate.
Fish helped introduce me to a new lifestyle and a way of thinking that I had in my heart but wasn't sure how to express. He showed me that there were other people out there who thought along the same lines, and that I wasn't alone. That made a huge difference in the way I saw the world. There was more. I just had to go and get it.
Years past. Music was played. Bands were formed and disbanded. Hell was raised. But mostly, liquor was drank. Fish was an alcoholic. I won't blame him for my own alcoholism, but he didn't help.
We didn't gang out all that much in later years, but when we did, it was always much drunkenness and dumbassery.
Fish and I got vodka drunk one night. Well many nights, but this one particular night we were leaving a certain small town and decided we would climb the lookout tower. This tower is a tourist attraction with stairs , a couple hundred feet high. If course it's closed at two o'clock in the morning, so we hop the fence and start climbing. About halfway up, Fish reveals to me his dreadful fear of heights. We press on and when we get to the top I immediately hop the rail and swing myself out over the edge. He freaks out and tells me to get back, do I do. We sat at the top of the tower and finished the flask of vodka. Before we leave we decided we should steal the flag. A big as American flag hanging from the tower. It was padlocked on so we cut it loose folded it up and headed back down. We made it home just fine, despite him being way to drunk to drive his van.
Fish was an *******. He liked to punch his friends in the face when he got drunk. I had several fistfights with him because of this habit. He would get a wild hair in his ass and just punch his nearest friend. A character flaw, I suppose.
We were drunk on whiskey one night at another friends house and someone broke out a blow dart gun. Fish said he wanted to get shot with it. I have a video of him getting pepper sprayed, willingly. I've been pepper sprayed, but not willingly. Anyway he decides he wants wants us to shoot him in the nipple with the blow dart gun. No problem. He takes off his shirt and we go to shooting. Unfortunately, we were all drunk and terrible shots. We were using broad head hunting darts ,BTW. Twenty or thirty darts later and his chest is a bloody mess. All darts within a couple inches of his nipple. Finally someone sticks one right in his areola and then he was done.
About ten minutes later he punched me in the jaw and we had a pretty good fight. He won. He was a tough mother ****er.
I could go on with stories all night, but I won't.
Fish's real name was Cory. Cory died in a car accident yesterday. I hadn't seen him for several years.
Rest in pieces, Fish.
I'll be along to piss on your grave shortly. You wouldn't have it any other way.
Me and Fish go back to junior high. Well I was in junior high. He was a few years older. Fish was a drummer. A Damn good one. He was probably my biggest first hand musical influence when I first started playing drums. He was so fluid. Excellent musician and only got better as the years past.
Fish was a punk rocker. The first I had ever met, growing up in a small, rural Arkansas town. He took he under his wing for a while. I had always felt different from the kids at school. Not quite sure why but I'm sure you can relate.
Fish helped introduce me to a new lifestyle and a way of thinking that I had in my heart but wasn't sure how to express. He showed me that there were other people out there who thought along the same lines, and that I wasn't alone. That made a huge difference in the way I saw the world. There was more. I just had to go and get it.
Years past. Music was played. Bands were formed and disbanded. Hell was raised. But mostly, liquor was drank. Fish was an alcoholic. I won't blame him for my own alcoholism, but he didn't help.
We didn't gang out all that much in later years, but when we did, it was always much drunkenness and dumbassery.
Fish and I got vodka drunk one night. Well many nights, but this one particular night we were leaving a certain small town and decided we would climb the lookout tower. This tower is a tourist attraction with stairs , a couple hundred feet high. If course it's closed at two o'clock in the morning, so we hop the fence and start climbing. About halfway up, Fish reveals to me his dreadful fear of heights. We press on and when we get to the top I immediately hop the rail and swing myself out over the edge. He freaks out and tells me to get back, do I do. We sat at the top of the tower and finished the flask of vodka. Before we leave we decided we should steal the flag. A big as American flag hanging from the tower. It was padlocked on so we cut it loose folded it up and headed back down. We made it home just fine, despite him being way to drunk to drive his van.
Fish was an *******. He liked to punch his friends in the face when he got drunk. I had several fistfights with him because of this habit. He would get a wild hair in his ass and just punch his nearest friend. A character flaw, I suppose.
We were drunk on whiskey one night at another friends house and someone broke out a blow dart gun. Fish said he wanted to get shot with it. I have a video of him getting pepper sprayed, willingly. I've been pepper sprayed, but not willingly. Anyway he decides he wants wants us to shoot him in the nipple with the blow dart gun. No problem. He takes off his shirt and we go to shooting. Unfortunately, we were all drunk and terrible shots. We were using broad head hunting darts ,BTW. Twenty or thirty darts later and his chest is a bloody mess. All darts within a couple inches of his nipple. Finally someone sticks one right in his areola and then he was done.
About ten minutes later he punched me in the jaw and we had a pretty good fight. He won. He was a tough mother ****er.
I could go on with stories all night, but I won't.
Fish's real name was Cory. Cory died in a car accident yesterday. I hadn't seen him for several years.
Rest in pieces, Fish.
I'll be along to piss on your grave shortly. You wouldn't have it any other way.
RIP Fish. Didn't know the floccer, but didn't need to.
I'm quite enjoying story time. Keep em coming.
I'm quite enjoying story time. Keep em coming.
damn, son! I'll have one for Fish. brutha sounds like he was a riot. R.I.P.
Fedora
Glorified Janitor
My band was playing a show in a basement. Just a party at some dudes house. We really had no business there in the first place. The guy that owned the house, Scuba Steve they called him, was a cool cat but the crowd that showed up was your typical preppy redneck bunch and not appreciative of a punk band drowning out their country and hip hop. Whatever, we were invited and came to play and have a good time.
Fish was there with us, and we were drinking 40s. Dont remember what brand. Probably O. E.. Anyway Fish was dancing, mostly by himself as we were being largely ignored by the crowd. About halfway through our set, Fish starts breaking 40 bottles. He smashed one on my crash cymbal then one on his head, then one on the floor. Of course he's bleeding from his head at this point.
The rednecks had had enough and we were not so politely asked to leave. Fine. We packed up our gear and headed outside.
The redneck ******** were talking sh*t the whole time and I was mouthing right back. When we got all our gear in the van, one ******* came over and got in my face.
I'm nose to nose with the dude, standing my ground, but also trying to diffuse the situation as we were greatly outnumbered.
Here comes Fish out of the back and sucker punches the redneck. Just lays him the **** out. I swing at the next closest one, cause what the hell else was I gonna do.
The rednecks piled on and we all got beaten to a bloody pulp. We limped to the van and went home. We caught a few of them by themselves in later months and got our payback.
Fish was there with us, and we were drinking 40s. Dont remember what brand. Probably O. E.. Anyway Fish was dancing, mostly by himself as we were being largely ignored by the crowd. About halfway through our set, Fish starts breaking 40 bottles. He smashed one on my crash cymbal then one on his head, then one on the floor. Of course he's bleeding from his head at this point.
The rednecks had had enough and we were not so politely asked to leave. Fine. We packed up our gear and headed outside.
The redneck ******** were talking sh*t the whole time and I was mouthing right back. When we got all our gear in the van, one ******* came over and got in my face.
I'm nose to nose with the dude, standing my ground, but also trying to diffuse the situation as we were greatly outnumbered.
Here comes Fish out of the back and sucker punches the redneck. Just lays him the **** out. I swing at the next closest one, cause what the hell else was I gonna do.
The rednecks piled on and we all got beaten to a bloody pulp. We limped to the van and went home. We caught a few of them by themselves in later months and got our payback.
Fedora
Glorified Janitor
1977Brewer
Free Dan Hess.
I'm about to go to sleep. First one tomorrow is for Fish. Sorry brother.
